


This Whole City

by msmoocow



Category: In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 05:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmoocow/pseuds/msmoocow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Usnavi adapts to the new neighbors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Whole City

**Author's Note:**

> For June, who requested an Usnavi/Vanessa drabble. Here it is, with a splash of Happy Endings for flavor.

The end of the world begins, as many terrible things do, on a Tuesday.

Sonny whistles to himself while he unpacks the morning’s SPAM shipment; Usnavi can hear him mumbling a little, too. Probably with Graffiti Pete, who, while not exactly _afraid_ , is still a curious mix of wary and audacious in Usnavi’s presence.

The summer heat is already starting to drape itself thick and sticky along the back of his neck as the day stretches lazily into consciousness. It’s quiet this morning, other than the sound of cans clacking onto a shelf and Sonny’s laughter, muffled by the wall that separates them. The clock’s just about to strike six, which means it’s time to open the store up for business. A vaguely foot-shaped shadow passes back and forth, shifting the light patterns that stream in through the crack between the front grate and the floor.

"Morning!" Usnavi says, flinging the grate up with a dramatic bang. 

The feet stop moving. They’re attached to a guy in what looks like his mid-twenties wearing artfully-stained slim-leg jeans, a sweater he’s pretty sure Abuela had in multiple colors, and thick, dark-framed glasses.

"Coffee?" He looks... _tired_. Usnavi takes a guess at what he needs. "You look like you could use a little life this morning."

The guy doesn’t say anything, just blinks blankly through his glasses. It’s more than a little unsettling, and Usnavi steps back slowly, instinctively.

"Uh...¡Oye! ¿Hablas ingles?"

Nothing. Usnavi shrugs with a small, cautious smile and starts neatening up the shelves, repricing some of his stock and keeping a firm grip on his pricing gun. If the weird dude wants to keep standing there, well, he’s got about nine levels of creepy to achieve before he gets a taste of Martin Fierro.

-

"And he just stood there?" Vanessa rests her elbows on the counter next to the register, where Usnavi counts out change.

"Yeah, didn’t even talk. He just...looked at everything. And grunted, kind of like a bull." He demonstrates and Vanessa laughs, pulling him close by the collar and giving him a chastely spontaneous kiss, something that still thrills Usnavi to the core after over half a year of kisses, and he tilts his head to get a better angle when —

"‘Ey. Get a room!"

Usnavi straightens and pulls away, not without regret, and faces the interruption. "Watch it, Sonny." He points a finger, ‘cause he means business, but Vanessa lowers his arm, grabs his hand, presses a kiss to the outstretched finger, and smiles. 

"I gotta get to work, but let’s go to the club on Friday? We could use a night out," she calls out over her shoulder as she walks out. "I’ll wear something sexy."

"Everything you own is sexy," Usnavi yells back, and she blows him another kiss before turning the corner.

-

The next morning is a bit of a rush; with mid-August temps breaking a hundred, everyone in the neighborhood stops in for a cup of coffee on ice. Vanessa can't come by, though she'd sent him a smoochyface text and invited him over for a drink tonight. It's probably for the best, however, as the weirdos keep coming in. And they look dangerous this time, coming in waves of four or five at a time, all wearing n eclectic mix of Abuela-chic clothing and looking around the bodega with fascination.

"Unther was right, this place is totally deck," one whispers. Usnavi pauses in the middle of wiping down the backsplash off the coffee maker, because _Unther_ , really?

"Can I help you ladies?"

"Nah," another one says, chewing loudly on a piece of gum. "We were just scoping out our new digs."

"Yeah," someone else chimes in, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Our friend Unther was talking about this place. We just moved in down the block."

Another girl gives Usnavi an up-and-down onceover. "He didn't mention that the owner was such a juicer, though."

It's not often that strange girls — and he does mean _strange_ , in this case — compliment him. He hopes it's a compliment, at least, in spite of how she looks utterly disdainful of everything else around her. "Wow," he says. "Thanks!" 

Gum chewer takes out a stack of Post-Its and scribbles down a number, tearing it off and affixing it to Usnavi's shirt. "Call us if you're ever on the scene," she says, eyes unsettlingly blank. Her nails graze the tender skin on the inside of his arm, fingers cold as stone, and he yelps.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Ticklish."

-

That night he relaxes into Vanessa's arms, snuggling into the secondhand imitation leather couch and pulling her closer as they watch _RENT_ for the fourth time.

(Vanessa claims a sister's bond with Mimi. Usnavi can't really see it, but to each her own.)

They're not paying much attention to the movie though, and during "Light My Candle" they share a glass of wine and talk about their days.

"So this guy comes into the salon," Vanessa says, already rolling her eyes, "and he's like, completely bald! And then he goes 'Excuse me, which one of you ladies is going to give me a trim?' And he points down to his nasty-ass entrepierna, and he's all 'Be gentle, it's my first time.'" Her voice gets deep and mocking on the last part, and Usnavi shudders.

"Yuck. Did you kick his ass for that?"

"I was going to, but Daniela held up her flat iron and said, swear to god, 'We don't offer that service, but we're running a special this week on straightening if you'd like to take a seat over there.' He ran out that door _so _fast."__

Usnavi laughs and holds up a hand for her to high-five, which she does. "Pass that on to Daniela for me?"

Vanessa nods, settling back into the couch. "But what about your day?"

"I'm pretty sure that grunty-stary guy from yesterday told all his weird friends about my store, and they were all over it today."

"Mm," she hums. "And I thought word of mouth was dead."

"All of them have the same dead look on their faces, like they've got better things to do. Creeps me out." Usnavi wrinkles his nose. "Does a busy store make for better business? Damn. I should ask Sonny."

"Aren't all customers just...customers?"

"They didn't even buy anything! They just came in with their ripped shirts and crazy hair, and then they went off and came back in waves and they were wearing granny sweaters and I could not tell anyone apart!" He pauses. "Well. Except for the ones who I think invited me to an orgy?"

Vanessa raises her eyebrows as he recounts that story, and the look on her face is disturbingly intrigued.

"Can't say I blame them for the offer." She turns back to the movie, because "La Vie Boheme" is her favorite. "Just watch out for the freaky ones. They'll leave stains on your clothes."

-

The best part of the club is Vanessa, who moves like sin and who tears up the dance floor like nobody’s watching.

The worst part of the club is that naturally, everyone’s watching. 

Vanessa doesn’t mind, and therefore neither does Usnavi, but it does sting a little when surly dudes start eyeing up his girl. Not as much as it must sting to get kneed in the cojones though, and Vanessa happily does just that whenever a would-be suitor gets too fresh.

And mostly the crowd gets to watch Usnavi twirl and dip her like they’re gunning for prize money, which is even more fun than watching her work those jerks over. Tonight though, he’s feeling a little winded, so he retreats to the bar for a breather.

"Strawberry daiquiri," he orders, and the bartender obliges, grinning toothily.

"For your girl?"

"Uh, no. Me." The bartender looks like he’s about to say something potentially offensive, but a woman slides onto the stool next to him.

"PBR," she drawls, each letter stretched to the length of at least ten whole words. She snaps her fingers without rhythm, eyes shut, either in concentration or extreme discomfort. When she opens them, her eyes are already trained on Usnavi’s and it is _seriously_ creepy how she appears to be looking at him and past him at the same time.

"I like your drink," she says. "Ironic?" Her voice is still thick and slow, and Usnavi wonders briefly if she’s on drugs.

"Oh no," he answers, shaking his head. "It’s not ironic. It’s delicious."

"Right on."

He turns back to his drink, stirring the little straw around and nodding to the beat of the music when the she speaks again.

"You like this song?"

Usnavi lifts his shoulders in sheepish apology. "I've actually never heard of it." It's true. He's not used to girls chatting him up at bars, though. Is it cool to admit these things?

Apparently it is, because her face takes on the closest approximation of a smile that her face is probably capable of, and she leans in closer. The near-manic expression triples in intensity, and Usnavi reflexively backs away, turning around and running straight into Vanessa.

"Who's your friend?" Vanessa leans against the bar on his other side, and despite the bite in her voice, she looks nothing short of amused. He cranes his neck to see the woman behind him, floating on a cloud of her own invented dance moves, swaying to the beat of nothing in particular.

"I never did get her name."

"Well," Vanessa says, crossing her arms. "I think we've found out why your bodega's so popular these days."

"And why's that?"

"You're a hipster magnet."

Usnavi blinks, shaking his head. "Who, me? And — _why_?"

"Nobody knows why they do the things they do!" She pulls him onto the dance floor, where a new song is starting — one that he's actually heard of, this time. "Like I said. I can relate. You deserve your own subculture."

"You think I can make them start buying things, though?" He twirls her around, then back into his arms, and she looks up at him.

"Your coffee's organic, fair trade, and environmentally conscious, right?"

"Yeah."

"You'll be fine."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Andi, Rachelle, and Mandee for talking me through this. <3333 :) You all rock.


End file.
